Far, Far Too Late To Stop Loving You
by Laura x Tennant
Summary: Perhaps he knows. Maybe she knows. But they will never ever say. Set in the TARDIS, after the events of New Earth.
1. So Close

**Far, Far Too Late To Stop Loving You**

_Perhaps he knows. Maybe she knows. But they will never ever say._

They close the doors.

He walks over to the centre of the console room and starts to press buttons and pull levers. She follows, leans against a coral column, and watches him. He is so new, yet so old; so different, yet just exactly the same - the fluidity of his movements, the effortless ease at which he commands his ship, small smile on his face, looking forward to the next adventure, the next place to impress her with.

She can tell, even though his body and face have changed, that he still loves this, the life they lead. Showing her new planets, new people, new ways of living. Exploring the unknown. Running from trouble. Saving the day. Although, now, he seems to like the quieter times, too, content to just 'be,' rather than rush around.

She can tell, despite the change in the colour of his eyes, that his past still haunts him, the things he's done, all he has lost. Although, he seems happier now, lighter, funnier, flirtier. Which she rather likes.

She can tell, however much his voice has changed, that he absolutely, positively _delights _in talking about everything and anything, assuming an air of superiority over everyone else in the entire cosmos. Although, he does seem to compliment her humanity now, rather than simply insult it.

And most of all, she can tell that he still wants her with him. Travelling in the TARDIS. His ship, their home. Better with two.

He glances up at her then, noticing she hasn't said anything for a while, and catches her looking. Rose averts her eyes, embarrassed to be caught staring. After what she had done today...well, what Cassandra had done in her place...she blushes. He practically _beams._

"Rose?" asks the Doctor.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?" He wants her to mention it. Let her be the one to bring it up. He doesn"t know why, though, it's not like he would know what to say if she did. Maybe he would tease her. Maybe he would kiss her. Just to show her, of course, that in fact, he could snog back, despite his lack of response last time. He was just shocked before, that's all. She was acting out of character. Of course, he now _knows_, she _was_ out of character. And that shouldn't disappoint him so much, should it?

"Yeah." No, she thinks. She doesn't know whether to bring it up or not. She can remember it: the strange voice, the peculiar posture, then the way she shoved herself up herself against him, flung her fingers into his hair, pressed her lips up to his with such force...

"Good." She's thinking about it, he thinks to himself. Their recent adventure with their old foe Cassandra had led to running away from patients with the plague, beating out a samba as Cassandra - she's bound to mention _that, _and he knows she will tease him good and proper for it, but he finds he doesn't mind - and seeing Cat Nurse Nuns being arrested. And kissing Rose Tyler. And he knows which one of those activities he enjoyed the most. Of course, he would never _ever_ admit that to either himself or Rose. Although, he is always saying: 'Never say never, ever.' So we will see. Time will tell.

"Doctor?" Rose watches the Doctor suspiciously. He appears to be staring at her, though he's eyes are glazed over, lost in a memory. She often sees him like this. With all his 900-odd years, he must have a lot of wonderful memories to lose himself in - well, before the Time War anyway.

"Doctor?" She moves closer, and wonders what he's thinking right now. Probably about some beautiful, mystical planet far, far away, which he saved from universal terror, or something similar. She thinks he will either be about to boast about 'that time I rescued some historical figure from impending doom, with only a pair of sunglasses and a bit of old chewing gum I'll have you know', or something along those lines. Or perhaps he'd do the opposite – close off and not mention anything at all. But first she had to awaken from his current trance-like state.

"Doctor? Doctor! Honestly, I swear you act like this high-and-mighty Time Lord, with 'far more superior senses' and yet you lose focus so easily, and even I can't break you out of your daydream about God knows what!" she mocks light-heartedly.

The Doctor was brought right back to the present with the sound of his name uttered from Rose's lips. Twice. No, three times. She begins to talk to him, but he's confused. It's odd: he could usually juggle rather a lot of thoughts in his head at once, but when thinking about Rose Tyler, he often gets slightly distracted. Welll, he supposes, why wouldn't he, she's brilliant! Always getting into trouble, but eager to learn, eager to explore. Just like him!

And she's getting better, so much better, at extricating herself from said trouble, with a swift kick, or a kind word, or a smile that lights up the entire room (or prison cell). And she puts up with him, through all his madness; comforts him; makes him better. Before, with the big ears and the bitterness. After, with the big hair and the inability to keep his mouth shut.

She would do anything for him. And that's what scares him. But then, it is nice to share the wonders of the universe with the woman he...with the woman he thinks is so brilliant. She even likes the trouble. And sometimes the danger. That scares him too. Cassandra could have seriously hurt her, all that brain compressing, and yet she still empathised with the 'last human' during her last moments. He loves, _likes_ that about her. Yes. She's simply a very, very brave, _brilliant_ human. And he loves travelling with her, loves holding her hand, loves simply _being _with her.

"Hellooo? Anybody home? You know, sometimes you stand there, like a right lemon, just gazing off into the distance, and I have no idea what you're thinking in here," she says, laughing, as she steps towards him and taps the side of his head, and holds it there.

He looks up at her hand with a raised eyebrow. She pretends not to notice and keeps her hand right where it is. And he's glad.

"Like earlier, right, when, erm, when Cassandra was inside my head and, well, you know, I -she - kissed you. And you just stood there, completely _baffled_! Well, I suppose you would be, wouldn't ya? You didn't know it wasn't me," she rambles, quickly adding, "And I don't usually do that, do I? Kiss you, I mean." She laughs nervously.

She mentioned it. Aha. Now what to do? What should he say? Then it's obvious to him. He knows he shouldn't say anything.

So he doesn't. Which is extremely hard, considering he's prone to hour-long rambles regarding just about anything and everything.

She thinks he's going to mock her, and she decides would mock him right back. After all – 'and a little bit foxy'? What was all that about? Although, then he could use _that_ against _her_, and insist that she did find him foxy. Which she didn't. Obviously. Ok, well maybe she did, just a little bit. But that doesn't mean anything. And the banter would continue, and perhaps they would flirt a bit, and then he would lean over and tickle her, or make a really bad joke, and they would laugh and laugh until they are clutching their sides and trying desperately to regain composure. They way they always do.

And yet, he's strangely silent, and she's _extremely_ embarrassed at what she said, and -

His hand comes up to grab her hand that is still raised by his head, where her fingers are absently stroking his sideburns, the corners of his mouth twitching up in amusement, his eyebrow rising again, and her expression alters as she realises what she's been doing as she's been speaking and thinking. She thinks perhaps her touching his face like this is far, far too intimate. She thinks he's going to move her hand away, and go off rambling about some planet far away that he's going to take her to next.

He doesn't. He simply links their fingers together and pulls their joined hand towards his chest, the momentum bringing her forward too. She's confused.

Perhaps he should kiss her. He could say it's an experiment; a one-off; a joke. JUst to show how good at kissing he is. Or...He could tell her the truth. Right now. Tell her that maybe, just maybe, things could change. They're best friends, aren't they? And best friends hold hands, just like they do, and hug, just like they do, and...snog occasionally, surely?

He's not very accustomed to this, though, he ponders. He has not really had this...whatever 'this' is, before. He steps closer. He looks deep into her eyes and she takes a sharp intake of breath. He wonders why she does that for a moment, then realises exactly what she must think he looks like just then; his hand squeezing her own; his eyes dark; his breath on her cheeks; his tight grip on her other arm, holding her close. He must have let his thoughts get away from him, if she could tell, without him saying anything, what he means to do next. Perhaps he looks a bit more human. Less old?

He felt so old. He felt so miserable. Then Miss Rose Marion Tyler came into his life and she changes all that. She made him live again – no, more than that; she made him _love _living again. She made him better, and he feels his life is pretty brilliant right now. But still he doubts. She will pull away in a moment, he knows she will, because they don't look at each other like this, or stand as close as they are, or breathe quite this shakily unless they've been running for their lives.

But then, he also knows that he will probably pull away first.

But he doesn't want to. They stand there, pressed together, staring into each other's eyes, her breaths mingling with his own... they're so close, the pulse of their hearts coming quick and unsteady beneath their joined hands.

Rose cannot believe what is happening. Since when did the Doctor look at her like this? Since when did he press their bodies so close together that she feels she might die of frustration at the fact they are just standing there, so still, more motionless than they have ever been? No rushing, no running. Just him and her. And their short, erratic breaths.

"Doctor," she whispers, and it's no longer a question. She pushes herself closer still; she doesn't pull away. This is nice. For a moment, she thinks he might kiss her.

"Yes," he replies, and he means it. This is nice. For a moment, he thinks he might kiss her too.

"..." She opens her mouth to say something, but she doesn't know what. She doesn't want to speak, lest she break the spell, the intimacy of the moment.

"Rose... I - " He begins. What? 'I want you,' 'I _need _you'... 'I love you?' He thinks. Somehow, those words die on his lips. They are just not enough. His fingers on the hand that is holding her arm trace a pattern there, symbols, a hidden language. One she could never translate.

She shivers, and places her free hand over his right heart, feeling it thump, thump, thump, faster and faster. He leans into her. He feels himself trembling now. Since when did he desire something so much that he physically _trembled?_

Oh, that's right. Since Rose.

Oh god, he thinks he wants this more than anything he's ever wanted in his long, long life. And now he is so close to giving in to temptation, to grasping it with both hands. So close...


	2. More Than Friends, Less Than Lovers

And then he realises what he's doing. This would change things. Complicate things. On the other hand...just one kiss, could that really hurt? A kiss with a companion, a friend? That's not too hard to do.

That couldn't hurt, he tries to bargain with himself in some sort of internal monologue. Yes, yes it _really _could, he replies to himself. Because it wouldn't be just a kiss with a companion or any old friend. It would be kissing Rose Tyler. And she's so much more.

And so it would continue: the boundaries, the rules, the walls he's constructed around his hearts would crumble further and further until there is nothing left and he would finally have to admit it. And when she's gone – oh, the inevitable - when she leaves him, whether willingly or through some cruel twist of fate, and he's lost her, it would hurt so much more. If he can pretend that she's just a companion, a friend, just another human who will pass through his life and leave, then it will be easier.

So he won't acknowledge his feelings, in the hope that perhaps his hearts will not break quite as much when he loses her.

She watches him, and she understands now, as his eyes flicker, that his thoughts have taken a left turn. He's never been so silent, and she can see the battle raging within him, the dashes of hope and then sadness in his deep brown eyes. She's half sure he would have kissed her just then, but now she knows he won't. 'Cos he's realised who she is, who he is, who they are, together.

So much more than friends, but far, far less than lovers.

And it hurts. But she's clever enough, _human_ enough, to recognise that ending something between them before it has even begun will be easier on him, in the end. She would never leave him, she knows that - she would stay with him forever if she could - but she also knows that he might leave her. Or she might die. And although she knows that she is far too deep in love with him for it not to break her heart if he did leave her, she also knows that he should do everything he can to preserve his hearts, when they part ways, for he has to live a far longer life. And she doesn't want his hearts to break; she doesn't want him to hurt. So she knows what is coming next. And she finds herself thinking that maybe it is for the best, so that things aren't quite so complicated, so that he doesn't fall in love with her back.

Oh, how he wants to kiss her. Tell her...tell her he loves her. Because he does, he really, really _does _love her, and nothing in this entire universe will ever change that. And he wants her to be with him forever. But she won't. And that hurts. He'd never ask her to leave, or dump her home, or try to send her back - away from danger, and death, and him - like he tried to do before; he knows that now. He is far too selfish to let her go. But he is also far too selfish, and far too much of a coward, to let her love him back, because if they did this – if they kissed, right here, right now...if he just told her – she would be taken from him, he knows she would, because that's how his life works out. He cares about something and it disappears, dies, leaving him bitter, and tired and old and miserable. All that she saved him from before. But if he lost _her_...then who could save him? Who could ever make him better after that?

He doubts anyone could. So he knows what is coming next. They can never have want he wants, and what he is pretty sure she wants too, because when she goes away, he will have nothing. And so he will break her heart a little now: hoping that she won't hate him for it, knowing that she never could, because she is just _too good_. And she knows he loves her. She knows. And that is enough. For he has fallen in love with this silly, jeopardy-friendly, brave, _brilliant_ human girl, and she must know it, everyone else they meet seems to know. He thinks his eyes betray him.

And so, if he never says the words aloud, he can pretend that he never ever did love her, when she is gone.

Because he is both far too selfish and selfless to see that letting himself love for a little while is far, far better than to never let himself love at all.

_Coward_, _every time._ He clears his throat. He lets go of her hand. He moves it away. He steps back. He moves over to the console. And he goes off on a ramble about some planet far away that he will take her to next. All the while, wishing he had the courage to kiss her, wishing he had the knowledge to say he could really promise her forever. All the while, he thinks, and hopes, and loves.

And knows deep down that it is far, far too late to deny anything to himself anymore. It's only a matter of time really, isn't it? Before he really breaks. Before he gives in to temptation. But not now. Not yet.

"Right, well, I thought perhaps we'd visit the planet Uio next, _run_ right across the iced beaches a hundred miles across – iced _beaches, _Rose; ooh and we could view the Alova Asteroid Belt from down below on the mauve mountains of Morii - beautiful sight, asteroids forming a ring around the _entire_ world, million stars up above, seemingly so close you could touch them. Wellll, I say a million, actually there's only around 876,000, but still – impressive...." he rambles.

He can't look at her as he says it. If he looked into her eyes again, he knows he'll break.

Rose swallows, and wills herself not to cry. And when she smiles, it is genuine. 'Cos she will never forget the way he looked at her prior to his commentary on the Moorey mountains or whatever they were called. She will never forget the way her body was so tantalisingly close to his, or the way she could feel the rapid double beat of his hearts under their joined hands. Perhaps she will never experience it again, but at least she has the memory. Better to have loved than never loved at all, right? She only wishes he would have actually kissed her, just once, properly, to see what it was like. So that she could pocket that memory in her mind too, and have that fuel her dreams for the rest of time. She loves him so much, and to not be able to show him often drives her mad. But who knows? Maybe she will get possessed again, or perhaps there will be a life or death scenario in which he would be _forced_ to snog her. She chuckles to herself. As if he would do that. She suddenly thinks that maybe one day she should ask him if there is a festive custom, somewhere, somewhen, in which she would have an excuse to kiss him.

And then she remembers there is, and laughs at her own stupidity. Of course - on Earth, at Christmas. Mistletoe. Aha, she thinks...maybe he would fall for it then... She giggles again. Bit too soon to ask to go back there though, he's had a far too domestic, slow pace experience recently, what with Mum's Christmas dinner after they prevented the Sycorax invasion. She will have to wait to investigate this. She makes a little bet to herself that he would 'um' and 'er' and stammer his way out of it; she doubts she will ever see him as unguarded and so, so nearly about to kiss her like he was today. She smiles as she realises he's still chatting away about this planet he was setting the course for.

"...ooh you'd love it! And the _people_, they're fascinating - although, we'd obviously be going at night time..."

He rambles on and on, and she loves it, though she stopped listening properly a long time ago.

He had her at run.

"...so we probably wouldn't meet any of the inhabitants. Especially being on top of the mauve mountains of Morii, no natives up there. No anyone, can't exactly climb those mountains, they are sort of fluid – welll, not really fluid, but you know what I mean - so it's lucky we've got the TARDIS. It'd just be you and me. Still, I suppose we could stay there until morning, and then I could take you down to the little town of Swansu, lovely little place, nestled at the bottom of the mountains..." he continues.

He glances over at Rose. He could still do it...just stop talking, and go up to her and kiss her. He wants to. But he doesn't.

It all sounded beautiful to her. Just them, watching the stars, hand-in-hand. The Doctor and Rose in the TARDIS, just as it should be. And she would follow him anywhere. Maybe that's what scares him. She would go anywhere, do anything, with him. _For_ him. She would die for him, and she knows that frightens him. But she just smiles.

"..._And, _I bet you didn't know this – up there on top of the mauve mountains of Montii in the middle of the night, you'd think we'd be cold, but ohh no! Warm as toast! Brilliant, their climate, they only have..."

Just one kiss? He's still thinking as he speaks. That could work. He looks at her again. No, he wills himself, he has to be strong. He has to keep his distance.

He finishes his narrative of their destination, and motions for Rose to pull that lever and press the blue button second from the right of the transmotional stabiliser. She does it. They arrive, with quite a gentle landing compared to normal. It must be because he's concentrating so hard. They smile at each other. He holds out his hand.

"Alons-y?" she asks, before he can say it.

"Alons-y!" he replies, and they walk outside together, hand-in-hand, to see the stars.

She loves him. And he loves her. But they will never, ever say.

Then again...

...the Doctor's always saying: 'Never say never, ever.'

**A/N: Hello everyone, I hope you liked the story. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed; this is my first story and the reviews have meant so much to me. Now, I'm wondering whether to write a sequel to this story, that takes place after Tooth and Claw...any thoughts on whether or not I should?**


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